


Form

by bluntblade



Series: Tales from the Timeskip [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gray Jedi Rey (Star Wars), Jedi Holocron, Jedi Training (Star Wars), Lightsabers (Star Wars), Not Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, POV Rey (Star Wars), Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29397129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluntblade/pseuds/bluntblade
Summary: Rey delves into the arts of lightsaber combat with some scavenged holocrons. But the Jedi Path is never easy - especially for an apprentice with no master.
Relationships: BB-8 & Rey, Chewbacca & Rey, Finn & Rey (Star Wars), Kaydel Ko Connix & Rey, Leia Organa & Rey, Poe Dameron & Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey & Rose Tico, Rey & Temmin "Snap" Wexley
Series: Tales from the Timeskip [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719019
Kudos: 2





	1. Aspirant

“How long have you had these stowed away?” Rey asked.

She was sat in Leia’s study, pouring over the box which the general had opened to reveal several crystal shapes, bound with bright metal. Jedi holocrons.

Leia smiled. “Only a few months, for the most part. One of our procurement people-” that is, one of the treasure hunters and explorers who served the Resistance cause “-came across them and brought them in while all of you were away. They’d been stolen away from the ruin of Luke’s temple, presumed destroyed. Had you been back any sooner, I’d have brought them to you.” She gave Rey a fond look. “And I rather thought it would be best to let you get some rest yesterday.”

“That’s appreciated.” Rey rubbed a still-raw bruise over her ribs. “Magna Leptus really took it out of me.” It was only a week since she and Finn had been rescued from their brief imprisonment as gladiators. The cuts were still fading to scars, and Rey was sure those would be dramatic.

“Gladiatorial combat isn’t kind to anyone. Still, you held your own impressively, you and Finn both… though there’s always room for improvement.” The older woman indicated the open box. “I think this will be a good start.”

“I didn’t realise Luke had crafted his own holocrons.”

“Oh, he did a few, but not all are his originally. Lots of them he went looking for and found. Most of them are actually older than me.” Leia’s eyes twinkled. “If you can believe that.”

“General, please. You’re not _old_.” Rey’s instinct was to press on and insist that Leia had decades ahead of her, but then she caught the rasp that laced the general’s voice now, and found she couldn’t summon up the words. She tried to disguise it by taking a sip of tea.

Leia, of course, wasn’t fooled for a second. “Word to the wise, Rey? Leave fretting about old folk to the old folk. You’ve got enough on your plate. Your studies, for example.”

Setting her cup down, Rey looked at the holocrons. “Where should I start?”

In Leia’s view, that turned out to be a lesson on the “Forms” of combat practiced by the Jedi. “If nothing else, your time in the arena should show that right now, we need you to be a warrior first and foremost.”

Rey had pointed out to her that she didn’t have a saber any more. The Skywalker blade was beyond her ability to repair, sundered so thoroughly that even the Kyber crystal was ruined. The crystal, despite its clean blue glow, had carried a taint from the terrible deeds it had been used to commit. Rey and Kylo Ren’s struggle in the throne room had been too much for the tired, sorrowful crystal.

Maybe a powerful, knowledgeable Jedi could heal it in time – but that Jedi wasn’t Rey, not for a long while yet. Leia had smiled. “So for now, you make do, just as you always have.”

So Rey and the Resistance armourers had improvised and overhauled her old quarterstaff. They’d switched out some parts, built potent shock-emitters into each end, and given the whole weapon a skin of precious, near-indestructible Phrik alloy. That had been one good thing they’d got out of the whole arena fiasco: the awful, impractical breastplate foisted on Rey had been melted down for the metal. She was glad to see it go, and very pleased with the improved staff.

Still, a weapon was only as good as its wielder, and Rey was keenly aware of her limitations. She had bested Kylo Ren once, when he was unbalanced in his mind and severely wounded, and even then she had spent half the fight fleeing. When she’d faced Snoke’ Praetorians on the _Supremacy_ , she had almost been killed by two in a row.

She had already been working to address that, albeit from less esoteric sources. One of them was Finn, who had had the techniques of the Stormtrooper Legions drilled into him. That meant that as well as a capable fighter in his own right, able to spot gaps in Rey’s defences or openings she could take, sparring with him was a way of understanding how some of her enemies fought.

The same went for the squad that Poe was building around the two of them, which he’d already nicknamed the Scrappers. Nyzar and LM-276 were especially skilled, as was only to be expected from two veteran gladiators. That meant Rey had several good training partners now.

And there had been less expected sources. Kaydel had dug around in the archives and found a training manual for the forces of the old Inquisitors - the Empire’s feared Purge Troopers. They had used electrostaffs themselves, and Rey had adopted some of their methods She could already see the results of all this. She was growing considerably more potent on the battlefield, and spent less of her time in sparring sessions being knocked down. But Leia seemed to think that the Jedi methods would be of an altogether deeper benefit to her. Rey wasn’t sure how that was meant to work, but she was willing to try.

The Resistance base on Rukjavel was a warren, bored and built into several of that frigid world’s forbidding mountains during the Clone Wars. Which meant that, as well as being well-protected from the merciless climate outside, there were plenty of secluded spaces in the depths. Leia had set aside one of the empty storage spaces for Rey. The base had plenty of training rooms, but there were already hundreds of Resistance fighters using those as the movement rebuilt.

And Rey needed peace and quiet, if she were to have any hope of absorbing the lessons in the holocron. So here she was, down in the depths of the base, her and the device.

When she was ready, datapad and stylus in hand, she reached out and nudged the holocron with the Force. The device responded immediately, the metal bindings unfurling with clicks and floating clear of the crystal core. It hung there like a frozen, symmetrical explosion. Patterns of light shown from the crystal, brilliant arcs and lines of blue washing over the chamber. And at the centre, the light coalesced into the figure of a Jedi.

That was when Rey realised her teacher would be a warrior from the time of the Clone Wars. She knew the face from some of Luke’s writings, and knew his name even before he spoke. “Greetings, young Jedi – or perhaps not so young. I am Cyn Drallig, master of the guard of the Coruscant temple. To my flatterers, the Temple swordmaster. And from today, your tutor.”

He was older than she’d expected. His long hair gleamed in a way that suggested it must be silver, and his face was heavily lined. Nonetheless, he was clearly in superlative physical shape and a honed warrior. There was no mistaking the brightness of his eyes, or the balletic poise with which he moved – though thanks to the nature of the projection, it meant that he appeared to be walking on the spot.

“Herein, we will explore the Forms of lightsaber combat, perhaps the principle art by which we and the Galaxy at large define ourselves. These are the skills by which wars have been won, the Sith Empires vanquished and Mandalorian armies put to rout. They are also the arts by which we steep ourselves in the Living Force. And as such, we do not take the matter lightly.”

_So I see_ , Rey thought. But she held her tongue, brimming with curiosity.

Nonetheless, it was as if Drallig sensed her unspoken remark. He raised a single finger. “This holocron is intended as a backstop against the unthinkable happening. If the Order fell tomorrow, and our every last Master was lost, this record will serve to preserve our arts.”

And a wise measure at that. Even if Rey was using the device after the fall of a different Jedi Order.

“If we speak of ‘form’ in purely physical terms-” the Jedi’s eyebrow quirked briefly “-then we have already erred. How so? Well, a Jedi in combat is never a purely physical proposition. The Force binds and permeates us, as you well know, and as you attune your body and mind to fight, so your connection to the Force will likewise be affected.”

He took his lightsaber from his belt, igniting it and flourishing it. “We guard against the Dark Side just as we guard against our corporeal foes. Our use of the lightsaber is a quite deliberate choice. Unlike a blaster, it lends itself to defence as well as offence. For above all, we are peacekeepers.”

_And I will be_ , Rey told herself. _When all this is done._

“The Dark Side is the ever-present temptation to pay back violence with violence, to seek power for itself. When we fight, that hazard is heightened. Not only must we reckon with our own heightened emotions, most obviously anger, but an enemy’s emotions will bleed into the Force as it surrounds you. It’s not so simple as mere proximity immediately corrupting oneself, more that the temptation is heightened to fight fire with fire. One must have control.”

Rey diligently took notes, already trying to commit Drallig’s movements to memory. This sounded about right. Her cheeks burned at how easily Luke had disarmed her back on Ach-To, the smack of his stick on her flanks coming all too easily to mind.

“For a preamble, let us summarise the Forms themselves, starting with the one where it all began.” Drallig brought his saber _en garde_ , the stance somehow looking simpler than his previous one. “Shii-Cho, the Determination Form. A simple style, owing to that it was developed along with the concept of the lightsaber itself.”

He ran through a flurry of attacks, and it seemed to Rey that the movements were simpler – or perhaps more limited than what she had seen from Kylo and in old holos. The lateral and diagonal strikes no longer apparent. As if…

“For the observant, it may appear that I’m wielding my saber as if it possessed but one cutting edge. That is the case – Shii-Cho was conceived when the broadsaber was the dominant weapon among the Jedi, requiring direction to cut. While that may seem limiting, for a learner it is something of a virtue.” He smiled, apparently anticipating the confused look that Rey wore. “We start with the basics, and build ourselves a framework from which our skills can grow. It is from the foundation of this Form that every Jedi reaches upward and outward. Indeed, for some practitioners its primal energy is potent enough to warrant mastering it to its fullest extent, rather than embracing another Form.”

Which was all very well, but Rey wanted to see the more advanced schools, the ones she recognised something of. She wanted something more than primal for herself. So the mention of Form II, Makashi, made her sit up and take notice.

“The Contention Form. Where Shii-Cho was conceived with the intention of confronting foes who could not match a Jedi’s skill, Makashi came about at a more fraught time for the Order. Rogue Jedi and Darksiders became prominent threats, and eventually the Sith Order, our ancient enemy, came into being. The Jedi found themselves in need of a means to counter foes who were strong with the Force. So, Makashi was devised.”

Drallig moved through a sequence – a kata, Rey corrected herself – of the Form. The movements were more nimble and fluid – cuts and jabs rather than the slashing and stabbing motions of Shii-Cho.

“Just as Makashi addressed the dangers of other lightsaber wielders, massed enemies armed with blasters warranted a response of their own. Hence,” and now Drallig settled into a defensive stance, arms brought guardedly close. “Form Three, Soresu. As one might expect from the Resilience Form, this is tailored to the demands of longer battles and requires the wielder to be centred in the Force.”

His saber snapped rapidly from one position to the next, economical and never seeming to open Drallig to the full weight of the hypothetical attacks he was defending against. Rey thought of Kylo Ren’s strength, the brute force of his assaults, and she could certainly see the appeal of just turning those to one side, opening him up to a quick retaliatory strike. But she didn’t see any real evidence of such moves in the Soresu kata.

She might have dwelt on it further. At that point, however, Rey’s belly protested audibly and shattered her concentration. She remembered Leia’s advice, and took that as her cue to join her friends in the mess hall for lunch.


	2. Familiarisation

Finding a seat in the mess wasn’t hard for Rey. There would always be someone willing to pull up a chair for the Jedi, and today the whole gang had managed to get themselves a table, leaving a place for her.

It seemed they all wanted to hear about her studies. Normally Rey would be enquiring just as much about everyone else’s activities, but this time she found herself fielding questions about the holocron and the lessons she was taking from it, all through the meal.

“You’re still just on the preliminaries?” Finn said, with some surprise and just a trace of disappointment.

“Fighting like a Jedi is complicated,” Rey told him. “Can’t go in half-ready.”

“I suppose not,” he conceded. “Not after where it got me,” he added, moving his shoulders just a little as if the old wound was itching.

As well as that, she met some scepticism about the merits of her studies. "Meditation and spiritualism and all that," Nyzar grumbled dubiously. Naturally, the old gladiator had little time for anything mystic. "Don't see what it'll do for you, Captain, that daily spars in the ring won't. Did all pondering mysteries really help the Jedi that much on the field?"

"Yes," Kaydel said bluntly in response. "I've heard Leia's stories, the ones she got from her father. Hell, old Admiral Ackbar-" they all bowed their heads at the mention of his name "-could spin you yarns about Kit Fisto and Anakin Skywalker did on his homeworld. Didn’t you hear the ones about Kanan Jarrus and Ezra Bridger, back in the Civil War?"

This was Kaydel’s element – as a second-generation Rebel, she’d been reared on those stories. The older members of Resistance held onto them and passed them on; while Luke had been missing, that had been part of keeping the flame.

"We heard stories…" LM-276 said warily. "Never thought they were much more than that."

Kaydel made as if to hold forth again, but Poe raised a hand to forestall her. "Easy, Kaydel. Though I can actually confirm that myself - I've met General Syndulla and she is not one to exaggerate."

Chewbacca chimed gruffly in. Not that anyone had _asked_ him, but he had fought in the Clone Wars and the things he’d seen…

“Ahsoka Tano?”

“ _Yoda?_ ” Finn asked disbelievingly.

Chewbacca nodded smugly, and launched into a lengthy story which needed lots of translating by Rey, and thus took even longer.

"Point is," Kaydel eventually resumed. "A fully trained Jedi could go through whole companies of Stormtroopers. I mean, Rey here is pretty incredible already-"

"Alright," Rey mock-grumbled, and nudged her, which only broadened Kaydel's smile. Not that Rey could really hold that against her.

"-but if she can learn all that stuff they knew then, she'll be so much more dangerous to the enemy. And _we_ will all be that bit safer," she finished with a satisfied air.

The burly Zabrak snorted and smiled at the little comms officer. “Can’t object to that, Lieutenant.”

Later, Rey got back to the holocron. It was getting to the point that she wondered if every Form was a response to the shortcomings of the last. Noting the apparent lack of offensive moves in Soresu, she guessed that whatever came next would be of a more aggressive bent. And sure enough…

“Ataru, the Aggression Form, is popular among the more athletically inclined Jedi. It lends itself to one-on-one combat and ending engagements swiftly.” This seemed to be a response to Soresu; where that was limited, Ataru was extroverted. Drallig’s footwork became more active, switching rapidly from one stance to the next. Rey saw the intent even before his blade began to move, seeing the range of angles for attack, the unpredictability.

Drallig spoke again when he finished his sequence. “Ataru’s poetic name is ’The Way of the Hawk-Bat’. As that implies, it’s fast and highly kinetic, even acrobatic at the highest level of its performance. Calling upon the Force for balance and propulsion, a Jedi can employ leaping attacks and dodges. Though I won’t show those off just yet,” he smiled.

“The skilled wielder can easily put an enemy on the back foot and dominate an engagement. However, it also requires space in which for the practitioner to manoeuvre, and comes with a certain fragility. Prolonged combat, especially against a large number of opponents, can pose particular difficulties.”

Rey made a note of that, the Resistance tended to have more skirmishes with multiple opponents than one on one fights like she had in the Gladiatorial Arena.

“A more concise but still aggressive Form is the Fifth, derived from Soresu’s principles but applied in a more bellicose manner.” A definite frown emerged on the Battlemaster’s face, and he admitted, “I am not especially fond of this Form. Its potency is great, but one must be wary of where its emphasis on strength and domination can lead.”

His posture shifted, lifting the blade into a high warding position. Again, Rey was struck by the degree to which the man seemed to inhabit every form, flowing effortlessly from one to the next. “The Perseverance Form comprises two sub-Forms, the first being Shien. Similarly to the form from which it evolved, it is geared towards combating groups of enemies armed with blasters, with a greater emphasis on counterattacks.”

Among the exhibition moves, Drallig demonstrated what he called the “controversial reverse grip”. Rey was tickled to find that a move she’d adopted of her own volition would have been so contentious in a Temple. _I went straight to the unorthodox_ , she chuckled inwardly. But then she felt a twinge of melancholy as she wondered what Luke had thought and felt, watching her try it out on Ach-To. She missed him, and wished dearly that she had a flesh-and-blood teacher as well as the holocrons and texts.

Still, regrets and wishes wouldn’t help her now. She spooled back the feed a little to listen as Drallig introduced the duellist’s variant of Form V.

Now this was very familiar. Rey saw the solid stance, the hammer-blow swings, and immediately recognised Kylo Ren’s preferred style. A more sophisticated version than she’d seen from her nemesis, to be sure, but the resemblance was there.

She suspected that this wasn’t for her, however, looking at the sheer weight of the swings. That was quickly confirmed by her virtual teacher’s words: “Form V, especially Djem So, demand strength. The practitioner will bring brute force to bear, breaking attacks with their defences and then laying into their reeling opponent.”

Rey had strength. Certainly she had more than most women her age; a lifetime of clambering around Jakku had seen to that. More recently, Leia had had some of the trainers on base devise weights and cardio routines for her, and then there were the regular sparring sessions with Finn and the Scrappers. But she suspected that she was still best fitted for a more mobile form, rather than the more solid and static ways of Djem So.

“Lastly, for our purposes, the Moderation Form: Niman. My personal preference, and the most finely balanced, which in turn makes it the most popular among the Jedi today. It hybridises the other Forms, creating one without any specific strength, but equally no great weakness.” Drallig turned to Rey, raising an eyebrow at his presumably sceptical audience. “Is Form VI the most dramatic? No, but in general it is the most practical.”

If nothing else, Rey supposed, it could be something to branch out from. And a proper handle on any Form would be better than what she had right now.

“At this point, with a flesh-and-blood class, some bright spark will raise the subject of Form VII, Juyo,” Drallig said. His voice had taken on something of a growl, and his expression became rather more stony. “Normally this will be a prankster, who’s heard that this is a good way to get a rise out of an instructor. Other times it may be a youth who has yet to work certain inclinations out of their system, and likes the sound of the Ferocity Form. Alternatively it may be a matter of intellectual curiosity, but in any case my response is the same: no.” His eyes were hard as flint, and his voice was much the same. “We Jedi will not allow our students to give themselves over to the Dark Side because, to be quite clear, that is what this Form entails.”

Rey looked at the image of the swordmaster in surprise, but found herself conceding that maybe, he had a point. She’d felt first-hand how potent the pull of the darkness could be.

“If you truly wish to learn Juyo,” Drallig continued, “then I suggest you put this holocron down, find yourself a living Sith Lord or Witch of Dathomir, and give yourself over to their debased arts. To speak less flippantly, such a vicious school of alignment and bladework is absolutely incompatible with the Jedi creed and I will have no part in the knowledge being passed on.”

“Hmm,” Rey grunted. That, on balance, seemed fair enough.

“The same goes for Vaapad, the nominal Light Side variant of Form VII. I would like to emphasise the word _nominal_. Those who have mastered it can be counted on one hand. The rest, in opening themselves to the Dark Side – to the darkness of their enemies – as its principles dictate, fell in the attempt. Understood?”

“Yes,” Rey said, and only then realised she’d spoken aloud. She glanced around her self-consciously. Mercifully, true to Leia’s word, she had been left alone.

“I’ll assume that was a yes and say: good,” Drallig pronounced with a smile. “Now, having raised some enticing possibilities and bluntly dismissed some others, we will begin with Form I, Shii Cho. Where the Jedi began, thousands of years ago, so too shall we.

“Before we begin in earnest, however, I have a stipulation. Our arts depend upon discipline and dedication, and so you will not cut corners in pursuit of mastery. You will warm up before you begin each exercise, you will not rush and you will give your body the rest it requires.

“When you have prepared yourself accordingly, we will begin.”


	3. First Form

From that lesson onward, this study became the thing which occupied Rey whenever she was off-duty. Her theory studies – reading and transcribing from the ancient texts and other holocrons – continued, but tactical, technical and other matters largely fell by the wayside for now. Poe raised an eyebrow, but Leia had spoken and he made nothing of it.

As her virtual instructor dictated, Rey began with Form I. “Shii-Cho,” Drallig said, “in keeping with its prototypical roots, involves utilising the Force in a way that some might deem unsophisticated. Just as the swordplay is raw, so the user fights with an emotionally heated mindset. That requires caution; one must guard against the temptation to attack with lethal intent – unless, of course, your opponent isn’t giving you the choice.”

Rey was familiar with that temptation. Not from before she joined the Resistance – her scuffles on Jakku were never lethal except for the nastiest of wild animals attacked – but after that point, almost all her fights had been lethal.

Now it was something of a challenge to rein herself in, or at least to always be ready to do so. What’s more, now she had to consciously connect to the Force when she carried out that routine.

The mere notion of that was intimidating. The first time, she’d done it only with the intent of fighting and been swept up in the urge to overbear Kylo Ren, to maul him, even kill him. The second time, on Ach-To, had been its own kind of overwhelming, reaching out in an unguarded manner and almost being sucked down into the whirlpool of the darkness.

But the third time, on Crait, she had found balance, centring herself in a purpose and letting that steady her. That sense of ease, the way the rocks she moved had seemed to come loose of their own accord and float as if weightless.. that was what she needed.

So Rey began that process now. Closing her eyes, she allowed everything to fall away, emptying her mind until the buzz of thoughts was replaced by something like a steady hum. Peace, the embrace of the Living Force. And within it, herself. Rey – just Rey – standing strong. For a few moments, Rey held herself still, sinking further into it. Then she settled into the first position.

The sessions quickly acquired their own routine. She watched Drallig run through the motions, studied the forms of Shii-Cho enough that she could recall them from memory. Each time, she would watch the swordmaster perform the kata. When she’d watched enough, she ran through the motions.

It wasn’t too far from her own methods, the staff combat which she’d learned as a child and then applied in the brief time when she had wielded the Skywalker saber. Form I was raw, inelegant even, but dogged and deliberate in a way that appealed to her. Determination had, after all, been one of the traits which had kept her alive on Jakku.

So Rey had committed to study, memorising patterns attacking and parry, body target zones, and running through the “velocities”, the attack drills which she was expected to follow. In some ways that was a challenge all its own, cutting back most of her own flourishes and simplifying the moves. Still, with practice she found a way into it, and found there was something to it, a flow and a fluidity which had eluded her fighting in the past.

The nature of her staff meant some modifications in its own right. It was handy for sweeping attacks, but didn’t lend quite so readily to the quick changes of angle and jabbing attacks which a classic lightsaber made possible. Granted, she’d already said goodbye to the prospect of impaling an opponent until she found a Kyber crystal and made herself a lightsaber.

_Probably should think_ that _quite so ruefully_ , she chastised herself. _Not a very Jedi thought. Definitely shouldn’t_ say _it, especially not in front of Kaydel or Rose._ She turned her thoughts back to her practice.

But it was one thing to master the movements. To open one’s mind to the Force, to bring and bring body and spirit into harmony and to make the Form the means of that, was quite another.

 _Raise to saber position three, sweep from high six to low two._ She moved across the floor, feeling the Force dispersing and rebounding in her wake. Her mere presence had a potency to it now.

That curl of turbulence continued as she settled into the next position. Her staff continued the motion of her sweep from high one, Rey redirecting it just so to flow into a twirl, ending in low four.

The Force was like a disturbed ocean’s swell in her wake, a tide she rode as the kata followed on, middle two into a block and the Force was there as well, it curled into her hands and she felt the current guiding her forward.

_Cross there, and a high two – no, something’s off…_ The tides were shifting around her and there was a spark from inside, an image flashed, and-

Rey’s flow came apart, dispersing like moisture in the air of Jakku. There was a clatter as her staff hit the stone, shock-coils shorting out. She staggered, slipping to one knee, the sudden light painful to her unready eyes. There she stayed, bereft, the sudden absence leaving her feeling weak and destabilised.

She breathed, trying to slow the rising aggravation and start again. This was the seventh time she'd failed this kata, and it was growing harder and harder to start again each time. _I’m getting worse. How?_

“Rey,” came Leia’s voice. Rey wheeled around, and saw her sat in a corner. She’d been too caught up to notice the older woman enter. “I think you’ve been at this long enough tonight.”

“I’m close to getting there,” Rey protested.

“You are,” the general said kindly. “But I don’t believe you’re going to get any closer tonight, Rey. You’ll just be spending energy, spoiling your mood and building treacherous habits for yourself.” Leia got up slowly, masking the tremor that Rey knew was there in her muscles, and beckoned to her.

Leia took Rey’s hand, clasping with both of hers. “To unlearn the old motions and take in the new is one thing. But as you’ve gleaned from the Holocron itself, that’s only one component. The deeper part of it is the spiritual one, and for a young woman who’s lacked for this kind of training until now, that will be difficult. Of course it will be difficult, Rey.”

Rey sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I guess. I forget that, and I haven’t got a context for my own progression. You might be the only person left in the Galaxy who really knows how a Jedi is meant to grow.”

“Then know that a Jedi is meant to rest, like anyone else.” Leia squeezed her hand once before letting go. “Sleep it off, consult the holocron again tomorrow, and then come back fresh to the routines.”

Rey bowed her head, and retrieved the staff. “Yes, General.”

When she started up the Holocron the next day, Drallig appeared to have read her mind – and seemed have much the same view as Leia. “If you are consulting me at this point, you’ve most likely hit a stumbling block. For those lucky few who have not, try not to feel too pleased with yourselves – you will most likely find your own setback in the near future and need to hear these words then.

“In any case, this is one of the truest lessons you will learn in this entire process. You’ve memorised the movements, but that is only one part of mastering a Form. As we have spoken of, the other side of the matter is spiritual. To speak of the Force flowing through you is not a metaphor. You must attune to it, and learn to think of its ebb and flow as guidance, not interference.”

Rey’s stylus tapped against her tablet as she took notes.

“Trust the Force, Padawan. For trust is what defines a Jedi against most other Force-users. It is not a power that we wield, but an energy which we welcome into ourselves and are thus empowered by.”

_That sounded like Luke_ , Rey thought, and it was enough to make her smile again.

“So now, meditate. Take that trust into your heart, let your frustration and anger lose their hold on you, and let the Force in.”

Rey did as she was bade, allowing her emotions to fall away again. The Force spilled into the spaces they left behind, bringing her back to the peaceful awareness of before. “Don’t rush it,” came Drallig’s voice. “Come back to the centre, hold there, and only then, resume.”

Rey nodded. Then, stilling the image of a second, she rose and did her stretches, before calling her staff into her hand.

“And now, we begin anew.”

And this time, it worked. Rey was fluid, bending rather than breaking under the pressures of the Force. She let it steer her blade, broadening her awareness and letting the movements come to her. The kata began to feel natural rather than merely simplistic, and with the Force to guide her, she found the rhythm became fluid rather than the choppiness of her early attempts.

She began deflection practice too, happily still feasible with an electrostaff, in the following weeks. Snap Wexley had presented her with a little practice droid – “I thought could refine the old floating ball a little for you, kid” – and Rey would go for hours at a time, learning to anticipate with the Force and counter a shot which hadn’t yet been fired.

And now, the first spar since she’d begun this training, a full month ago. “Ready?” Finn called, bringing his practice baton into guard position.

Rey settled into her own posture, muscles tensing. This was their first spar since she’d begun the story of the Forms. She closed her eyes, breathing slowly, letting her mind empty. And there, waiting for her, was that guiding light.

Her eyes snapped open. “Ready.”

As they began, trading the first few flurries, she could already feel the improvement. Before, she’d be trying to read her sparring partner, find the best defence or attack. Now, it just came to her. The Force guided the staff, leading her to high three, mid four, high again for two. Then it led her to mid two, low six…

“Holy!” Finn eventually gasped, after Rey knocked him on his back for the third time. His training baton went skittering across the floor.

_Sun djiem_ , Rey thought, satisfied. Then she turned back to her friend.

Finn smiled ruefully, shaking his head as he got his breath back. “Rey, what’s happened in the last couple weeks?”

Rey leaned on her staff, grinning, before she knelt down to help him up. “I found myself a form.”


	4. Refinement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was uploaded last week, but was always meant to be 4. Sorry for any confusion.

After months of near-constant study and training on Hjolterum, Rey had built a solid understanding of Shii Cho. But she moved on swiftly, needing to build on the foundation. That took her back to Drallig’s holocron and sure enough, the long-dead Battlemaster supplied the next step.

“Form VI, Niman. As you may recall from the very beginning of our sessions, this is known as the Moderation Form. Or, as some would have you think, the way of mediocrity and compromise.” Amusement glinted in Drallig’s eyes. Plainly, he didn’t share that view. “For my part, Niman is not… to my tastes. But then, I am not most Jedi – I am a devotee of saber combat and relish the more demanding styles.”

That didn’t seem to bode well for Rey. She had to remind herself at this point that the Jedi of fifty years ago had had rather different priorities to her.

Drallig unknowingly emphasised that same point just a moment later. “The Jedi Council maintains that Form VI best suits the role of contemporary Jedi Knights. After all, a Jedi Knight who is overly trained in martial combat might be at a loss to resolve a complex political conflict or a sensitive trade disagreement."

_Fair enough,_ Rey thought. _But I need martial skills more than anything else right now._ Reading some accounts from the Clone Wars, she knew well that Form VI practitioners had fallen in disproportionate numbers, their fighting style often found wanting by the demands of war.

She ran her fingers through hair that had been left rather short after a mishap with some clippers, and a drastic salvage job by Rose.

“To those more combat-inclined, despair not. Niman does offer an excellent grounding in contemporary saber styles without exerting too great a physical demand on oneself. From a reasonable understanding of Niman, one can progress smoothly to one of the more specialised Forms. Moreover, it integrates telekinetic attacks, a valuable asset in fights where crowd-control is a priority.”

_Now you’re definitely speaking my language_. And as Drallig ran through the motions, Rey watched intently. Sure enough, she saw it. Midway through a kata, Drallig would throw a hand and a shockwave would billow out from his palm. Other times, more rarely, the movement would have the sense of catching and reeling something in.

She didn’t attempt the Force attacks for the first week she spent learning the new kata. The base moves integrated elements from almost all the other Forms – Makashi seemed to be excluded, however, which must stem from its aggressive bent. There was a greater sophistication at play here, more variety in the direction of attack. Unlike Shii Cho, this was a style which had been conceived entirely for lightsabers, not edged weapons.

She found herself fighting much more cagily when she employed Niman than when she used Shii Cho. It was a more controlled style of combat, mirrored by the calmer frame of mind which the user was expected to fight, and there didn’t seem to be a single move that would leave her exposed to a quick response.

Still, Rey couldn’t lose the sense that she wanted something more demanding, feeling constrained by the Form. Even Drallig’s exhortation that “Form VI, perhaps counterintuitively, demands more creativity than most of the others when facing properly trained opponents. Intuition and improvisation are encouraged, once you understand the basics” was only so reassuring. To her more cynical side, that sounded like a diplomatic – _ha ha_ – way of saying that Niman just wasn’t as effective as the more specialised Forms.

Nonetheless, she had to try and reserve judgement until she really understood it. Which meant once she had learned the physical routines, it was time to bring in the other component – wielding the Force as a weapon.

To deepen her understanding of telekinesis and more besides, she had strengthen her connection to the Force. Once she had lost her initial fear of it, she had found that it was much like building up a new set of muscles.

Some elements of it had, as she had told Luke, always been there – the ineffable _sharpness_ which had helped her when fighting and exploring wrecks on Jakku. So too the vigour she had mustered in her direst moments. Now she could call upon it consciously, but she had the sense that she had was only skimming the surface. There was much more beneath.

To that end, she meditated more often and more deeply, sinking right into the Force. She slowed her breathing, letting her emotions rise to the surface in turn and letting each fall away to drift to the margins of her mind. A cool peace now filled the space they had occupied, and with that Rey could let her consciousness roam.

On one occasion, she sank so deep that she forgot Gial the Porg, who had insisted on accompanying her to practice today, was even there. She didn’t remember him until Kaydel came to find her, bringing some lunch.

And she didn’t notice Kaydel until she called out: “Uh, Rey?”

Rey started, her eyes snapping open, and realised something was sitting on her head - Gial. A panicked shrilling as the Porg lost his balance and tumbled sideways. Rey caught him just in time, Gial gradually calming down in her arms.

“Hi, Kaydel. What is it? Have I been down here this long?”

Kaydel, her gave a pointed dip of her chin. “That, and you’re… Rey, you’re levitating.”

Rey glanced down and… “Oh.” It took some work to not lose her balance and simply drop. She was a good foot off the floor. Taking a breath, she lowered herself to crouch on the floor, still holding on to Gial. Then she got up and turned to Kaydel.

“So the training’s going well?”

“It’s going,” Rey smiled. “That’s for sure. But come on, was seeing me float that strange? First time we saw each other properly, I’d just lifted an avalanche.”

“We hadn’t talked properly back then. You were still just ‘the Jedi’ to me. This strange girl we’d all seen for about a day and who was suddenly off to find Luke Skywalker.” A curious, nervous smile played over Kaydel’s face as she handed Rey her ration pack. “Now I know how human you really are, Rey. Which, in a way, makes all the Force stuff more special.”

Rey took a first bite. “You’re too sweet.” Then she wolfed down the rest, and spend a while talking with Kaydel about her work, about Rose’s and Chewie’s improvements to the Falcon and Finn and Poe’s own training.

“Major Rulm had Finn out leading trainee squads again today,” Kaydel smiled. “Really impressive results on every exercise. Which we should’ve expected – Finn’s a natural leader and he’s smart. Rulm’s really taken a shine to him. You should come watch too, next time you’re free.”

“Maybe I will,” Rey replied. Then she raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Say Kaydel, wanna see something impressive here?”

“What are you-” Kaydel’s eyes widened as Rey called her staff into her hand. “ _Oh_. Well, do go on,” she smiled.

Rey crouched down to the little ball-droid and activated it. “Routine 4, little guy. Kaydel is also here but she is not, repeat not, a target.” The little droid burbled its compliance and Rey grinned, already feeling her pulse speeding up.

She’d begun working to wean herself off that preparatory slowing down. In the field, an enemy wouldn’t wait for her to be ready, so Rey had to simply _be ready_ as soon as it was required of her.

So it was with the practice droid. Without any preamble, its little blaster lit up, sending a little storm of projectiles her way. Rey ignited the shock-coils of the staff. Then she was in motion.

As she was used to doing now, Rey leaned into the flow of the Force, perceiving the right point to send the bolts zipping back at the droid. _Catch catch_ – a burst came her way – _sweep_ – and a movement of her staff swatted those shots away. Then she slammed her hand forward with a barked “ _Ha!_ ”, and the training droid was sent flying, wobbling as it curved back around. It didn’t take it lying down, and quickly whipped around in the air, firing another burst.

Rey deflected those right back, weathered another volley before again using the Force to bat the droid to one side. Then it gave her a brief lull, which Kaydel seized on with a suggestion.

“Say Rey, there’s something we could try out here.” She drew her blaster, toning it down to practice setting. “There’s one thing that some of the old Rebel heroes used to talk about Jedi doing when they fought with others.”

Rey looked at her quizzically. “And what’s that?”

Kaydel came close, blaster up but putting Rey between her and the hovering droid. “Well, Commander Rex called it ‘the old shield and shoot’.”

Rey grinned at her. “OK. Let’s try that.”

This turned out to be a different kind of dance, using the Force to anticipate her friend’s movements as well as those of the droid, just as it took Kaydel some time to establish a rhythm. Still it felt good, tangible progress and in an area that Rey could put directly into helping her fellow rebels.

And before long, that was just another part of the routine,

Outside of studying and rehearsing the Form, she was back to regular sparring with Finn and the Scrappers, formation exercises with the soldiers, and regular hours in the base’s gym. Trainers on the base had her working through a rigorous program of exercises to build up her endurance. After all, as Poe and Finn both liked to point out, the First Order never willingly called “time out” on a battle.

So Rey did as she’d always done, and toughened up. As the regime ground on, she found herself able to fight for longer. Her prowess with her staff grew as well. Which was just as well – because now the missions began again.

And, quite aside from actually having to fight in earnest, those meant for much more challenging scenarios than a training droid or a two-on-one spar. A labour camp riot, for example.

The Force around Rey was a maelstrom of fury and fervour, a mirror to the battle which she darted and fought through. Finn, Rose and the Scrappers followed in her wake, leading a few squads of soldiers and pilots.

The breakout was well underway. Behind them came hundreds of prisoners, armed with weapons taken from Stormtroopers or appropriated tools. It felt good to break shackles like this, but the fight hung in the balance. They had to reach the airfield and head off the First Order pilots. If they couldn’t do that, the uprising could be blasted off the face of the planet.

“So, Finn,” Rey asked as they ducked down in cover. “Where to from here?”

“Cut through that checkpoint.” Finn pointed with his pistol. “That’ll get us to the airfield. Grab some transports and we can clear the enemy out.”

“Plus it gets us our ticket offworld,” Rose added.

“I like it,” Rey smiled.

“Good.” Then Finn gave the order to advance. Blaster bolts snapped through the air, but Rey intercepted them and sent them flying back to drop Stormtroopers. This was going well, she allowed herself to think.

But before they could advance off to her left, came the cry: “Riot Troopers!”

Even amid the din of battle, the words cut through to Rey. Next she saw them, slamming into an unprepared knot of prisoners, lashing out with shock-batons and landing heavy, sizzling blows on their victims. A flanking attack, which would split the breakout force in two if it wasn’t halted. Rey couldn’t allow that.

Finn looked to her. “We have to push forward.”

Rey gave him a hard look. “ _You_ push forward. I’ll take Nyzar and LM, and we’ll intercept.” The two ex-gladiators looked to her and nodded, and that was that.

They burst from cover, charging the Riot Troopers, a few shots snapping towards them only to be batted away with Rey’s staff. And now Rey let herself fall into the current, her limbs following the Force’s flow to deliver her weapon to exactly where it needed to be.

And the first place it needed to be was the top of a helmet. The Riot Trooper dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

He went down before he even knew Rey was there, the second following him before he even hit the ground. The third traded a couple of blows with her, but the Force didn’t so much show her the gap in his defences as just pull her leading hand down just a few millimetres, so her staff caught his maul from an unexpected angle and it went askew. Then the Force drew Rey’s staff back and brought it whipping around to strike a ringing blow on his chestplate. He cannonballed into the soldier behind him.

The fourth dropped more quickly, quickly overborne by a flurry of strikes. Rey hardly even needed to calculate a strike. Off to the side, she could feel Nyzar and LM fighting. She needn’t fear for them here. Riot Troopers weren’t about to trouble two veterans of the Magna Leptus Coliseum.

Fifth opponent for her now. She went for a low blow, aimed at his gut. The trooper interposed his baton and blocked the attack. So Rey took the quickest opening she had – she rammed the staff down, into her enemy’s foot. The trooper went to his knees with a howl of pain before Rey cracked the weapon into the side of his helmet.

Between Rey and her companions, that left one more. The squad sergeant remained on his feet, and he was already in motion while more troops raced up behind him. Rey threw herself back, using the Force to steady herself and twist around to attack the Riot Trooper from the side. He caught that attack, and her second, but on his own he couldn’t match her speed and agility. She intercepted his next attack, letting him extend himself fully. Then she struck back, sending the baton wide, and caught her enemy full in the faceplate with a sharp jab of the staff’s crackling tip.

That was the last Riot Trooper down, but Rey didn’t halt yet. She wheeled to face the reinforcements who’d come up behind the first squad, putting all that momentum behind her open hand and thrusting forward with a fierce “ _HA!_ ”

A little shockwave whipped out from her hand, and the Stormtroopers were thrown head over heels, flung into untidy heaps and tangles of white-armoured limbs. Their yelled curses almost drowned out Nyzar’s booming laugh. Almost.

The rest of the enemy went into retreat, falling back as the Resistance’s commandeered transports rose into the air and rained fire down on the First Order forces.

Rey squared her shoulders and exhaled, taking a moment to reflect before she ran for the airfield. _Yes. This is progress._


	5. Aggression

Practical experience of using the Forms in combat, coupled with further months of constant drill, allowed Rey to make rapid strides. She learned to employ the kata creatively, to counter different weapons. She moved more quickly, she hit harder, and now she could send whole squads of Stormtroopers scattering like rumble-pins.

But her confidence was tempered by the knowledge of what she had yet to face. In due time, the Resistance would have to challenge the First Order’s advance directly. That would truly mean really big battles, the sort which could run for days and which would pit her against the worst that the First Order had to offer. Not just the elite of the Stormtrooper legions, but other Force-wielders. The dreaded Knights of Ren… and _him_.

For on the horizon, at the edge of her mind, her nemesis loomed. In the depths of her most ominous dreams, she saw him. Kylo Ren, wreathed in fire and smoke, always in battle. The glimpses she got were fragmentary things, like a faulty and stuttering holofilm, but they burned themselves on the back of her mind’s eye.

She saw him lead an army of Stormtroopers against the soldiers of a Republic world, face a hulking beast on a field of rusted metal and bones, fight with his Knights against a ragged horde on a lava world, beneath a black tower. Despite the scattered nature of the dreams, his increasing power was ever-more apparent.

As was his growing swordsmanship. She wasn’t sure he had even had a Form when she first encountered him, unless you called it a crude version of Djem So. Now, however, his moves displayed a far greater finesse and assurance. It was true Form V, and more than that. Increasingly, she noticed his attacks. There was a speed to them which recalled Ataru and Makashi, but also a fury which went far beyond anything a Jedi would practice.

_So that’s Juyo_ , Rey thought to herself when she woke from one such dream.

He was, as she should only have expected, doing the same thing as her. Accounting for the gaps and vulnerabilities in his style, deepening his connection to the Force. Juyo to counter Djem So’s lack of mobility, Niman to amplify and harness his own affinity with telekinesis.

And at least in part, he was doing this with an eye to facing her again. So she must do the same, difficult as the thought was.

Now came a point where Rey found herself meditating upon the Forms, upon herself. She needed to evolve, to determine which would fit her best – and her needs as a combatant. At this point, her understanding of Niman’s principles, both physical and spiritual, was sufficient for her to call again on her prior experience. Now she could integrate what years of fighting with the staff had taught her.

Increasingly, she found herself thinking back to the first time she had truly let the Force flow through her. Her fight against Kylo Ren in the snowy forest, the two of them fighting as the Starkiller was torn down around them.

What were the details of that fight which stood out to her? _The two emotions which concern me the most as a Jedi. Fear, and anger._ It had been a fight of two halves, the first a headlong retreat until she finally reached for the connection she had fled from, and the other an unmitigated savaging of her opponent.

She left aside for now that Ren had been wounded and unbalanced at the time. Right now, her thoughts were on how she had been, how she had felt during that part of the fight. She remembered the ferocity, the thundering of blood in her ears. The way his blood had gleamed on the snow, the red seeming vivid even though they’d fought in the dark. She recalled the savage rush when she cut him across the face, and the satisfaction of seeing him sprawled, wounded in the snow.

But most troubling of all, she remembered feeling the urge to go further

On the other hand, when she leaned away and tried to spurn that anger, she felt diminished, neutered even. So perhaps she needn’t clamp down on her anger, but rather she should find ways to focus it, channel it.

For that reason, she had already discounted Makashi, which centred almost entirely on duelling. That wouldn’t serve her well in battle against First Order troopers. But there was another style which might.

“So, Ataru has piqued your interest,” Cyn Drallig’s ghostly avatar smiled when Rey returned to his holocron. “This Form vies with Djem So to be the most physically taxing style of saber combat, demanding its users to be ever on the attack and drawing constantly upon the Force. But for the persistent and robust, it is one of the most rewarding, enabling some of the most startling acrobatics that the Jedi arts are famed for.”

_Keep talking_ , Rey murmured inwardly. This sounded like her already – the greater the effort, the greater the reward.

Drallig ignited his saber and brought it… well, _en garde_ didn’t seem like quite the right phrase. More that he seemed to draw himself in, coiling like a spring. Everything about the stance spoke of imminent movement, Drallig ready to evade or explode into an attack.

“The Ataru practitioner calls upon the Force at all times,” he said. “But to what end? Well…”

He moved so quickly that Rey started. His blade flickered through the air as he flowed through the kata, weaving from one stance to another with impossible speed. Or rather, speed which could only be made possible with the Force.

“Our connection to the Force,” Drallig said, “bolsters our strength, speed and awareness. Often a Force-sensitive will call upon it to all of these ends before they understand how it is done, and sometimes before they even become aware of that sensitivity. In fighting in the Ataru style, a Jedi must assume conscious control of this, and then push it further.”

Rey remembered seeing Luke break his own fall with telekinesis, and her momentary glimpses of him facing Kylo Ren on the salt plain of Crait. _Was that Form IV, I wonder?_

She turned her attention back to Drallig. “The Fourth Form, due to all of this, requires more non-combat training than any other. You must become intimately acquainted with your body’s capabilities, and how the Force can carry you far beyond its limitations. But heed too the demands it places upon you. For those must be met if you are to master Ataru.”

The immediate upshot of that was that acrobatics now became a part of Rey’s fitness routine, on top of longer and faster runs, heavier weights and more frequent team exercises. It drew quizzical reactions from her friends, but they couldn’t deny the progress she showed.

From the start, of their time in the base she’d been climbing, both on the practice walls set up within the base and the less perilous rock faces around the base. Now she was free-climbing no matter the terrain, making moves she could never have attempted without the conscious use of the Force. Here, as when she fought, she found herself drawing fully on reserves she hadn’t understood before, summitting climbs in a fraction of the time she would have taken before.

With that reinforcement, she began to practice the Ataru velocities. Some of them she recognised from Niman – that Form did integrate Ataru, after all – but here applied with much greater intensity. There was a purity to Form IV that made its derivatives in VI feel diluted in comparison.

Still, Rey could perceive the greater strain which the elaborate, highly mobile style imposed on her body compared to the measured and mannered styles of Niman. “They should call it the Appetite Form,” Kaydel mused, watching Rey devour her rations after practice one evening. But through it all, Rey persisted.

And it paid off. Over time, as she practiced while her hair grew back to its old length, Rey saw marked improvements in her fighting. Even compared to when she used Niman and Shii-Cho, she found that she moved faster and hit harder, imbuing her attacks with greater momentum. Even for her sparring partners, her attacks were unpredictable as she wheeled around an opponent.

Find an opening swiftly, and end a fight before it could drag out and risk fatiguing her. That became her guiding principle. In the field, that unpredictability became her watchword, along with the Force attacks which she carried over from her studies in Niman.

It was undeniably more taxing, however. Not least in how Ataru required her to actively “read” the Force, rather than permit it to steer her through a fight. She’d also had to contend with its weaknesses in defence, falling back on Niman when she used her little training droid.

“Sooner or later,” Drallig cautioned, during a later lesson, “an Ataru practitioner will need to change course without going against the flow outright. If that occurs – or rather, if you allow it to occur – you’ll be swept under by that flow, and then you will be lost.”

Rey frowned questioningly at the long-dead Master. Fortunately, the answer came swiftly.

“The current will not always carry you to victory, and there will be enemies with enough skill, strength and speed to overcome you. So we aim for a balance. You need a light touch. You must know the core movements of the Form, but you must also learn to deviate and then return smoothly to it, as the flow of both the Force and battle dictate.”

In some ways, Rey thought, using a connection to the Force was rather like taking a small boat down a river. Yes, she had limited experience of rivers, but she thought it worked in principle. You couldn’t simply rely on the flow to deliver you to where you needed to be, but at the same time you couldn’t fight it or else you’d be swept under and away.

There were also parallels, she supposed, to serving under Poe. “I’ll set an objective,” he’d tell her early on, “but I want you to figure out the best way to achieve it.”

In any case, Rey found that Ataru worked against the principles of simple surrender to the Force. Too much concentration had to be devoted to the physical side of things, and bringing out her anger, it required tight focus to channel it properly and safely.

Mindful of the potential risks involved in sparring in that state, before she was comfortable with it, she went to Snap and asked if there was a way to make her practice droid project some semblance of physical opponents. His response had taken a couple of days, but now the droid could muster up holos of Stormtroopers, which would collapse when Rey struck them.

And once she was comfortable with that, it was time to test what she’d learned against her sparring partners.

“Are we dancing again, Captain?” LM-276 asked as he and Rey circled each other in the snow.

_Dancing._ The Scrappers, the irregular squad of commandoes and close-combat specialists which Rey and Finn headed up, all used that word for Rey’s new moves. Cylarei, schooled in

“Rather depends if you can keep up,” Rey retorted, regarding him from beneath her hood. Unlike the droid, she had guard against the cold. Despite the clear sky above them, the air was still frigid.

They’d drawn something of a crowd. It always happened when she fought in view of the personnel on base. Rey ignored them – well, not entirely, but while she was aware of her audience, she didn’t let it interfere with her focus. _Be mindful of the Living Force. Keep your eye on the task before you._

She stilled, bringing herself into her ready position. Body slightly turned, practice staff held out. She drew in a breath and exhaled, engaging her core, and let the awareness permeate her. She had a sense of coiling as the Force suffused her, welcoming it into every muscle and sinew.

LM moved first, but it was Rey who struck the first blow, staff hammering against his practice sword. This was the Swarm, one of the core techniques of Ataru. She kept her strikes brief but unrelenting, robbing LM of momentum and withholding the initiative.

Not that she could dominate LM. The ex-gladiator was a tough, wily fighter even beyond his mechanical strength and speed. He’d prevailed many a bout in the arena by weathering an attack, reading his opponent’s patterns and then countering.

Now that response kicked in. Putting his mass to good use, he drove at Rey, giving his blows a weight which she couldn’t hope to parry for long – Force-derived strength or not. So Rey evaded and deflected rather than blocking, letting the practice sword _whoosh_ past her. With each dodge, she struck back, derailing the offensive and prising the momentum from LM’s hands.

The truly acrobatic aspects of Form IV were still beyond her at this point, but she could sway and weave, using the Force to augment her strength and drive her attacks home with greater speed.

To her inner eye, the Force was a many-channelled river, and she rode the currents and eddies, wheeling around at such velocity that even LM’s electronic reactions were hard-pressed. This was _jung su ma_ , building her own momentum, making it exponential. Now she was the Hawk-Bat which gave the Form a name, she was in full flight in the open sky and nothing could halt her.

There was the opening now, and Rey seized on it. She tore the sword from LM’s grip then darted back, a half-step which brought the end of her staff to hover beneath his jutting iron chin. “Yield?”

The droid spread his hands. “I yield, captain. Gladly.”

Rey let out a breath – a heavier one than she’d realised she was holding in. She rolled her shoulders, noting the traces of exertion. But she put it from her mind. A win was a win.


End file.
